


legacy

by imposterhuman



Series: angsty post-endgame drabbles [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Endgame, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Endgame, dad tony stark, harley as iron man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: "It's not about me. It's not about you. It's not even about us, it's about legacy. It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations."Harley had come to the funeral.





	legacy

**Author's Note:**

> *incoherent pterodactyl screaming*
> 
> i saw endgame yesterday and im still sobbing
> 
> for anyone waiting on updates to my other stories, ill try to get something up this week but honestly im so emotionally scarred by this damn movie that i cant make any promises
> 
> enjoy this pain

Harley had come to the funeral. He had watched Pepper float Tony’s first arc reactor into the water, had watched little Morgan Stark sob, had watched Peter Parker barely hold it together. He had kept his eyes closed, though, when they released Tony’s ashes on the farm he built for his wife ( _if he didn’t look, it wasn’t real_ ).

 

Afterward, he went inside the farmhouse. The framed picture of him and his mechanic on the wall had him running out, though.

 

Tony had been his mentor since they met years ago. They kept in regular contact, even after the Snap. Harley had come to stay with Tony and Pepper before Morgan was born, when he lost his sister and his mother in seconds and was left all alone.

 

Tony’s arms around him, slight and weak but warm and familiar, had kept him from trying to follow them.

 

Harley was sobbing without even realizing, remembering hugs he’d never feel again. He wrapped his arms around himself, a limp mockery of them, and screamed himself hoarse in the field behind the farm. Morgan’s tent was off to the side. He thought of days spent there, with the little girl and her ( _their_ ) father, chasing the haunted look from his eyes until his smile was utterly real. Harley crawled inside it, not wanting anyone to see him break down. Inside was a circuit board, some books, a crude drawing of Iron Man. Harley held it and cried.

 

The world had lost a hero, but he had lost his _father_.

 

Harley couldn’t have moved if he tried, even as he heard soft footsteps approach his hiding spot. He didn’t even make an effort to wipe his tears; if they had a problem with him crying over his dead dad, they could speak to his potato gun.

 

(The thought of the potato gun, Mark II languishing in his garage somewhere, renewed his silent tears.)

 

Peter Parker stuck his head in the opening of the tent.

 

“Mind if I come in?” he asked, voice hoarse. He had been doing a lot of screaming and crying, too.

 

Harley shifted over. “There’s room for two,” he said, closing his eyes. “But I reserve the right to kick you out if you get all weepy on me.”

 

Peter’s laugh was a broken thing. “Noted,” he said, ignoring the tears streaking Harley’s cheeks.

 

They laid there in silence. Harley knew about Peter, had seen his photo on the wall next to his own. Tony had told him stories about another kid genius with a heart of gold in the aftermath, when Peter was dust on an alien planet. He knew that Peter knew about him, too; perks of living in New York had included more time with Tony (not that Harley would have given up his weekly, hours-long video calls for anything). The quiet was oddly comfortable for two boys who should have been strangers, united in their devastation.

 

Harley didn’t mind the company; he had no memories of Peter with Tony, so it didn’t hurt as much to see him. Morgan and Pepper, he couldn’t look at without his chest tightening. Even Rhodey and Happy looked alien without Tony hanging off of one of them. Peter was safe, for now.

 

Until he opened his mouth.

 

“He left you a video,” said Peter, breaking the fragile peace.

 

“He left me more daddy issues than I started with,” Harley hissed, pain sharpening his tongue. He didn’t want to know Tony’s last words to him, didn’t want to deal with the finality of it.

 

“You should watch it,” Peter said, turning to look at him. He had brown eyes, same as Tony, older and wiser than they had any right to be. Peter was his age, and he had already seen too much. “I watched mine.”

 

“I don’t care,” said Harley, ignoring the yawning pit inside him. “I don’t give a shit what he had to say. If he cared, he’d fucking tell me himself.”

 

“I told him that, once,” the other boy said with a faraway smile. “I made a mess; he cleaned it up. He was in his suit, see, but I thought FRIDAY was piloting it. I told him that if he actually cared, he’d be there. He stepped out of the suit that minute. Chewed me out just as well out of it, though.”

 

“He cares too much,” Harley agreed softly. His face fell. “ _Cared_. Whatever.”

 

“Watch the video, Harley,” Peter suggested, gentler that Harley would have been. Peter’s grief didn’t have sharp edges; hell, he didn’t think _Peter_ had sharp edges.

 

An acerbic comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He nodded sharply, stood jerkily, and left the relative safety of the tent.

 

Harley didn’t know where he was going, really, just let his feet carry him back to the house. He passed Strange, still hanging around out of guilt, and glared at him. He glared at Rogers, too, old and withered for some reason. He glared at everyone he saw, everyone who failed his mechanic and everyone who was there while Tony wasn’t.

 

The house was empty; Pepper had taken Morgan to the lake to feed the ducks, like she used to do with Tony. Harley made his way down well-worn stairs to the lab, dark and empty and alien. Tony used to stand in the middle, like a conductor, his holograms his symphony. He shook off the memory as he went searching for the Iron Man helmet, the one that stored his recording.

 

There was one on his lab bench, the table itself dusty but the helmet gleaming. It was smaller than he remembered, the red darker, with silver instead of gold. Harley reached out with shaking hands, Peter’s voice ringing in his ears; _watch the video, Harley._

 

He tapped the helmet once.

 

“Hey, Harls,” Tony’s hologram shimmered into existence. Harley covered his mouth with one hand, crying out. His eyes were blurry with tears, but he could make out the regret in every line of Tony’s face. “If you’re watching this, well, I’m sorry, kid. I probably went out doing something stupidly heroic, and I expect a monument. A large statue; red and gold, obviously. I’d ask you to make sure it gets done, but I’m still waiting on that sandwich.” Tony was smiling, teasing like he always was. Harley wished Tony would ruffle his hair one last time, knock his shoulders, anything but be dead. “There’s no one I’d trust more with my legacy,” said Tony, tone a little more serious. “Nix the statue, actually; that’s not my legacy. _You_ are. You and Peter and Morgan. Peter’s already Spider Man, and Morgan’s more of a Pepper, you know? I don’t doubt that Rescue will be a shared thing. But you, Harley? You’re like me, you know that? You’re the best parts of me; you’re everything I wished I could be. Which is why you’re the only one who can do this, who can take this mantle and do some good.”

 

Harley’s heart was in his throat. “No…” he whispered, already knowing what Tony was going to say.

 

“I want you to be Iron Man.”

 

The helmet made sense, now. It was smaller, to fit Harley’s head. The colors were Harley’s own, based off of his own hypothetical suit design years ago. Harley sunk to his knees.

 

“There’s no one else I’d choose,” said Tony. “Iron Man doesn’t have to die with me, Harls. You’re already a hero- _my_ hero; now, you can shoot lasers out of your hands. You’re strong, smart, capable, and I _know_ you’ll be better than me.”

 

“ _You’re_ Iron Man, not me,” Harley’s voice was broken, trying to reason with a memory. “Don’t be gone. _Please_.”

 

Tony’s smile was warm and proud, the same smile he wore to Harley’s award ceremonies and graduations. “You know how I know?” he teased, eyes sparkling with life. Harley mouthed the words along with him. “Because we’re connected.” _I love you_.

 

The projection cut out, leaving behind an empty helmet. Harley knew if he looked, he’d find the rest of the suit, made with love and care.

 

He picked up the helmet and started searching. He had a legacy to protect.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so much to say about endgame! so i made a tumblr (https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)- come chat with me!
> 
> comments and kudos make me happy (which i rly heckin need right now)


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